Love's Continuing Journey: A Preview
by The Yankee Countess
Summary: Coming early 2013! A sequel to "Love's Journey" and a rewrite of Downton Abbey season 3. The following is a PREVIEW, and a rewrite of a particular episode. Contains some spoilers for Episode 5 of S3. NOW WITH A READER SURVEY! Go to "chapter two" to share your thoughts on what YOU would like to see when this story begins!
1. Preview & Rewrite

_The following is a **PREVIEW CHAPTER** to my Downton Abbey season 3 rewrite, which will be a sequel, so to speak, to my big, main DA fic, Love's Journey. Now, I want to emphasize that I AM NOT beginning this story *yet*; I honestly don't think I can manage more than 2 stories at a time, so while I understand the wish to read an S3 rewrite now (and really, who doesn't?) I ask that you be patient and wait, as I promised, for the new year, which I hope by then I will have Love's Journey complete, or close to completion, and then begin to work on this._

_That being said, however, a reader requested that I post something sooner rather than later, to help deal with the pain that everyone, including myself, is feeling. Well, I thought about it, and decided that while I can't begin writing a 3rd story, at least not yet...I can at the very least post a "Preview Chapter" of what I plan to do for that story...and what better moment of S3 to rewrite and retell...than a particular episode that left us all bawling? SO...here is that chapter, borrowing a few bits and pieces of dialogue/plot points from that episode, but ultimately being what I THINK SHOULD HAVE HAPPENED (and would have if I were in charge)...but that's why we write fanfic, isn't it? :o) Anyway, hope you enjoy this preview, and that it can satisfy for the time being. -Yankee Countess_

RATING_: T for language._

* * *

**"Love's Continuing Journey"**

_By The Yankee Countess_

**_A Preview…_**

She couldn't breathe…

Her face, her throat, they were swelling up, and her skin was beginning to go from pale, to purple, to a sickly blue color…

Her eyes were wide. She looked desperate, she looked frightened, she was shaking, trembling, convulsing; and he didn't know what to do! No, no, no, she was _not_ supposed to suffer! This was not supposed to happen! She was his angel, his darling one, his English princess…

He had just gotten her back, it hadn't been that long ago that he had wept with worry over whether or not she would return to Downton safely. Once he held her in his arms after that horrific period of uncertainty, he vowed to never leave her side, never again; it didn't matter how many plans they made, or how logical it seemed at the time to go forward and do this; he would never do that again. Where he went, so would she. And while it pained him to be away from his homeland, especially at the time when he felt he could do some good…his place would always, forever, be by her side, even if that meant having to spend the rest of his life in that damned house.

But not without her.

He opened his mouth to scream, wanting someone to do something…

But he was alone in the room. Alone with her, lying on the bed, convulsing, silently crying for help. Where was everyone? Where were the damn, bloody doctors? He took her in his arms, he tried to calm the thrashing, he tried to speak soothing words to her in his Gaelic tongue, as he knew she enjoyed him doing, but it wasn't helping, nothing was helping! No, no, THIS WAS NOT HOW IT COULD END!

"SYBIL!"

"Tom!"

He gasped, sitting upright, his face slick with sweat and his muscles screaming from the tension of his own thrashing, which he had been doing in his sleep.

Where was he? Not in their room—no…no, he wasn't even on a bed. He was on a chair…a chair in the corridor…only a few feet away from her room. _Their room_. Where she was lying and waiting for the baby to be born…

"Tom? Are you alright?"

He looked up then, momentarily coming out of his stupor, and looking up into the eyes of one of his sisters-in-law. Edith gazed back at him, biting her lip, looking genuinely concerned.

"W-w-wha…?" he swallowed, his throat tight with thirst.

"You were having a bad dream, I think," she explained, trying to offer a comforting smile. "Nerves, no doubt."

A dream. That…that hellish nightmare had been a dream? He sat up a little straighter, trying to calm the erratic beating of his heart. He swallowed again, but despite Edith's words and comforting smile, he didn't feel himself calm down. "Sybil?"

Edith glanced down the corridor to where the room lay. "She's doing well, I think!" she said with a smile. "I was just in there, wanting to check on her. The nurse says it should be soon."

Soon.

Soon his son or daughter would be coming into the world, a baby born of love between an Irishman and an Englishwoman, between a working class lad and an aristocratic beauty, between a Catholic and an Anglican. This child would truly be the bridge between the old world and the new. And soon, he would be able to hold that child in his arms…

The thought should have brought him comfort and joy. But it didn't. He couldn't shake the visions that dream had brought upon him…

He slowly stood up, wincing at the tightness of his muscles. "I want to see her…" he murmured, before gently pushing his way past Edith.

"Oh, Tom, I don't know if that's such a good idea—"

"Why?" he asked, turning suddenly and facing her. The pale look on his face must have startled her, because she took a step back as she looked up at him with wide, startled eyes. "Why do you say that? Is something wrong—"

"Oh no, no, I…I just mean…" she seemed to fidget a little. "Sir Philip doesn't think it's proper—"

Tom didn't bother listening to the rest. He didn't mean to be rude to his sister-in-law, but at the same time, ever since that dream, the thought of Sir Philip brought nothing but a sour taste to his mouth.

Memories of dinner began swirling in his head. Sir Philip, assuring all of them that everything was fine…even though Dr. Clarkson had been there earlier and…didn't look so…convinced.

Tom had tried to think of it as nothing but envy; poor Dr. Clarkson was just bitter that Lord Grantham had summoned Sir Philip. But…he remembered looking at his mother-in-law all evening…catching her eye…and seeing a doubtful look. Or was it simply that she felt sorry for Dr. Clarkson, and didn't approve of her husband brushing the man aside for this posh London physician? Either way…all Tom wanted to do right now was look at his wife, see her face, hear her voice, be reassured that everything really was alright and that all his worries were nothing but anxious worries of a first-time father.

He gently pushed the door open and poked his head inside. The nurse was at the other end of the room, cleaning a few instruments. Tom swallowed as he looked at a few of those things; Sybil always had the stronger stomach when it came to the medical profession.

"Tom?"

He turned his head and immediately felt some of his worry disappear, as he saw her beautiful, damp, smiling face, gaze up at him from the sweat-soaked pillow she was leaning against.

The nurse lifted her head and immediately frowned. "She needs her rest—"

"No…" Sybil began to protest, but Tom paid the other woman no mind and quickly knelt by his wife's bedside, taking her hand in his and lifting it to his lips, giving it a tender squeeze before leaning forward to brush some of the sweaty strands of her hair from her brow. Despite her state, she gave a small blush. "I…I must look wretched—"

"You've never looked more beautiful," he murmured, meaning every word.

She smiled back at him, before squeezing his hand with a tight grip, and groaning as a wave of pain rolled through her body.

Tom's smile faded and he bit his lip, wondering if he should return the squeeze, although he doubted he would be able to move his fingers from the way her hand was cutting into his circulation.

"Oh God…" she groaned, bearing down and gasping. "I honestly…don't know…how…Mama…did this…three times!"

He tried to smile, even chuckle, but it was difficult, seeing the pain she was in. "Or how my mother managed to do it five times," he added.

"Exactly!" Sybil gasped, as she gritted her teeth through another contraction.

Tom kissed her fingers again. "What can I do, love? Is there anything I can get you? Anything at all?" He was begging her, actually. Begging her to give him a task, a quest, to point him in the direction of a dragon to slay. So long that whatever he did could help relieve the pain she was going through.

"Just you being here helps," she whispered before hissing as another contraction began to throb and rack her body.

Behind him the nurse clicked her tongue, no doubt a sound of disapproval. It was taking a great effort to not turn around and tell the nurse to…go "off", somewhere.

"Sorry…about…your hand…" she managed to murmur between heavy breaths.

To this, Tom did chuckle. "You're worrying about my hand?" he laughed and flexed his now cramped fingers. "If it helps you in any way, then I'll gladly let you squeeze each finger and toe clear off."

Sybil giggled, before groaning as another contraction swept her body. "Well…trust me…I have…already…made a list…for you…on ways…you can…pay me back…"

Tom kissed her fingers again, before leaning close and kissing her brow. "And I will happily work myself to the bone for each and everything on that list."

"I'm sorry, sir, but you really should go—"

"Why?" Tom asked rather sharply, turning and giving the nurse a glare, daring her to tell him to go. He had allowed them to shush him out of the room earlier that evening, but after that dream, he had no intention of leaving unless Sybil ordered him out, herself.

The nurse opened her mouth to speak, although she seemed a little unsure on what to say. However she was "saved" from having to say anything, when a light knock on the door announced the arrival of the almighty Sir Philip.

"Oh, Mr. Branson!" he gave a warm smile, although the look in his eyes told Tom he didn't exactly approve of him being there. "Well…I suppose you couldn't stay away?"

Tom forced a smile. "How could any man, really?"

Sir Philip chuckled. "Most men prefer waiting someplace else…to be as far from the delivery room as possible."

"No…" Sybil began to protest again.

Tom gripped her hand. "Beggin' your pardon, sir, but I'm not 'most men'."

"Obviously," Sir Philip murmured under his breath, but didn't try to argue the point further; rather, he moved over to the work station that the nurse had been preparing for him, allowing Tom to put his whole attention on Sybil, once again.

She was sitting up now…and looked a little more agitated than earlier.

"Hey…" he said, hoping that maybe his words could distract her from the pain, at least a little bit. It was a trick his mother always used, whenever she was patching them up as children. "I've been thinking about what we should do…" he began, smiling and brushing her hair away from her eyes. "One of my cousins, in Liverpool, he has a mechanic shop…and there might be an opening there!" He was trying to sound positive, despite the frown that was growing on her face. "It would mean working with cars again—"

"No," Sybil interrupted, before forcing a smile. "We're not going backwards…you must promise me that."

He wanted to tell her it wasn't going backwards, not completely. In fact, he found the idea a little romantic; it would be like reliving their earlier years, when he was trying to court her and win her affections. Really, as wonderful as…some…members of her family had been, Tom wanted freedom from Downton. He knew Sybil wanted that too, they had talked about it for several nights. If they must stay in England, then let them stay on their own terms, and have a life of their own. He wanted to carefully argue this with her, but all thoughts of that left his mind, as she threw her head back and gave a great, painful cry, while gripping her side as if the child were trying to tear its way out, there.

"God, I wish there was something I could do," he muttered, feeling helpless at his own lack of power, and utterly amazed by her strength in this moment.

"Just…just be here…" she whispered, smiling at him and clinging to his hand. She then gave him a knowing smile, while she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, before taking a deep breath. "We can…just lie back…and look at the stars…"

Tom smiled at this, rubbing his thumb tenderly over her fingers as he recalled that night too, their wedding night…

_"The stars seem so much brighter here…" she had whispered with awe._

_ He kissed her cheek and held her trembling body closer to his. "They're shining just for you, my love…"_

_ "No…" she murmured, turning her head and leaning her brow against his. "For us."_

Still…for some reason, her words confused him a little. And they unnerved him, too. He rapidly turned his head to where Sir Philip stood, cleaning his hands and preparing for the birth. "Is she—"

"It's all normal," the older man reassured, but if truth be told…Tom didn't feel reassured. Those horrific images began to play across his mind once more, and he jumped, when the bedroom door opened again, this time revealing his mother-in-law…and Dr. Clarkson.

"Oh now what?" Sir Philip groaned, at the sight of his adversary.

Tom ignored the other man. "You…you came back…Dr. Clarkson?"

"I asked him too," Lady Grantham answered.

Tom frowned at this. There was something in his mother-in-law's voice that troubled him…

Dr. Clarkson spoke directly to Sir Philip. "I want to test the latest sample of her urine."

Tom looked at Dr. Clarkson with wide eyes, and then looked once more at his mother-in-law. His anxieties were beginning to overpower him again…

"Oh for heaven's sake—"

"Just give the order to the nurse, please, Sir Philip," Lady Grantham interrupted, her voice quite final on the whole matter.

Dr. Clarkson turned and smiled at Sybil. "How's the young mother doing?" he kindly asked.

Tom hoped that the good doctor could ease his anxieties and explain why this sudden test was necessary, however that hope vanished the second Sybil mumbled, "Am I on duty, Dr. Clarkson?"

Tom's eyes widened. "What?" Dr. Clarkson asked, his brow creased with confusion.

"Only…I swear I'm not on duty…otherwise…I wouldn't be lying here…"

Tom looked up at the doctor, fear suddenly gripping his chest. Dr. Clarkson smiled that reassuring smile, but it was one strictly meant for Sybil. "No, no, you're not duty…" he murmured.

"Tom…" he turned then and looked at Lady Grantham. Her expression didn't hide her emotion, and now he truly felt panic grip him. He nodded his head at her, knowing he needed to hear whatever she had to say, even if he wanted to scream at them all to do something.

"No…no…don't…" Sybil whimpered as he began to rise from the bed.

"Shhh, it's alright love, truly," he promised, kissing her fingers and then leaning over her to kiss her brow. "I'm just going to step outside while Dr. Clarkson runs his test…I'll be back right away…I promise…"

She nodded her head, reluctantly, and God help him, it took all the strength he had to let go of her hand and leave that room, especially without losing control of his emotions. As soon as they had exited the room, he turned and faced his mother-in-law with apprehension. "Tell me quickly," he practically begged.

Lady Grantham—Cora, sighed and then took one of his hands in hers. "Dr. Clarkson is afraid she's Toxemic…and in danger of Eclampsia—"

"What?" Tom gasped, a little louder than he intended, but he didn't care. He had no idea what his mother-in-law had just said, nor what it all meant, but one word hung above all the rest: _danger_.

"Cora?"

Tom and Cora turned their heads to see Lord Grantham approach them from the nearby staircase. "Cora, why is Dr. Clarkson back? I thought we'd sent him home—"

"I wanted him here," she interrupted.

Lord Grantham frowned. "Cora, we've been through this—"

"What do you mean? What is 'Eclampsia'?" Tom asked, shaken by this news.

"A rare condition, nothing more."

All of them turned to Sir Philip, emerging from the room, and looking most put out by this recent interruption.

"Rare condition?" Tom asked, although he didn't completely believe the man. "How rare?"

"Mr. Branson, I assure you, she's perfectly healthy…but I do not wish to have this conversation here, just outside her room, where your talk will only distress her further."

"Sir Philip is right," Lord Grantham agreed. "We're worrying over nothing—"

"Our daughter's health is not _nothing_!" Cora hissed, glaring at Lord Grantham in a way that would freeze the sun.

"Of course not," Sir Philip murmured, trying to be the voice of peace and reasoning, but Tom wasn't buying it. Something was wrong…very wrong, he could feel it.

"Let's return to the drawing room," Lord Grantham suggested.

"No," Tom argued, shaking his head adamantly. "I promised Sybil I would stay—"

"Mr. Branson, if you care about your wife—"

"I DO CARE!" Tom roared, unleashing his anxieties on the older man. "AND DON'T YOU DARE SUGGEST OTHERWISE! I'M _STAYING_!"

"Tom…"

He froze at the sound of her soft, frail voice. It sounded weaker…oh God, so much weaker…

He pushed his way past Sir Philip and immediately went into the room, falling on his knees and clutching her hand in his. Where was that strong grip from earlier? The one where she nearly broke his fingers?

Dr. Clarkson was in the corner, doing some tests. He must have gotten the urine that he needed, for now he was observing some vials and checking some manuals on a desk.

"I'm here, love," he reassured, kissing her fingers and squeezing her hand. "See? I told you, I would be back right away."

She smiled and squeezed his hand, but it still was nothing like the squeeze she had given him from earlier. "I…I heard shouting…?"

Tom cursed himself, but only shook his head. "It's nothing, sweetheart, I'm sorry we were so loud."

Sybil shook her head; she was no fool. "No…no, something…something's wrong…" she whispered, and then her eyes suddenly widened. "Oh God…the…the baby?"

Tom felt fear grip him, and if he had felt helpless before, it was nothing compared to how he felt now, because he honestly didn't know how to answer her question.

"That's why Dr. Clarkson is here," he tried to explain. "To make…to make sure…that you…and the baby…will be alright." Tears were beginning to drip down his cheeks. Oh God help him, his nightmare was coming true…

"Your husband is right, Mrs. Branson," Dr. Clarkson murmured from the corner where he stood, still making notes and checking the manuals. "Like Sir Philip, I just want to make sure everything is alright."

Unlike before, when she seemed to have been lost in her own world, Sybil sat up a little straighter, or as straight as she could, and narrowed her eyes at the family doctor. "What…what's wrong?"

Dr. Clarkson paused. "There's no point in worrying, my dear—"

"With all due respect, Dr. Clarkson…" Sybil gasped between contractions. "I…I know a thing or two…about the medical field…and can handle…whatever news you have…"

"Tell her," Tom urged. He was tired of all these people talking over them, trying to make decisions for them. They were the parents of this child; _she_ was the one having the baby, for heaven's sake!

Dr. Clarkson glanced back and forth between the two of them. "I'm worried that you may be in danger of Eclampsia, Mrs. Branson."

Tom felt a shiver run down his spine at that word. While he still didn't know the meaning, he hated it more than any other word he had ever heard before.

Sybil's grip on his hand tightened at the word, too, and her face seemed to pale as well. "Are you certain?"

Dr. Clarkson sighed and looked down at the notes he had been making. "You are showing some symptoms, yes."

"Symptoms?" Tom gasped, rising to his feet. What did that mean? What was going to happen to her? To the baby? "Those tests…did they prove anything?"

"They show that Mrs. Branson has a great deal of protein in her urine…far more than is healthy."

"Oh God…" Sybil whispered.

"Here now, what are you doing?" Sir Philip demanded, storming into the room. He looked at Sybil and no doubt saw the fear in her eyes, the same fear that was gripping Tom's heart, and then turned his gaze upon Dr. Clarkson with great fury. "Are you trying to bring harm to this mother and her unborn child?"

"Of course not, but—"

"But that is exactly what you are doing, by causing her this sort of anxiety!" Sir Philip accused.

Dr. Clarkson glared back at Sir Philip, and then stormed across the room. "Outside," he growled, before pushing past the other doctor. Sir Philip lifted his chin and followed, leaving Tom and the nurse as the only other occupants with Sybil.

"I should hear what they have to say…" Tom murmured to her.

Sybil bit her lip. "I…I'm scared…"

"No, love, no…" Tom took her face in his hands. "I promise; I will not let _anything_ happen to you, or the child. You understand me, Sybil Branson?" he kissed her lips and then her brow. "You and I are going to hold our baby in our arms, before this night is over. And then I am going to hold you, and you can sleep in as late as you want tomorrow, because by God, you'll have earned it."

She gave a small smile at this, before groaning with pain, gripping her side once again. "Hurry…hurry back to me…" she urged, squeezing his hand.

"I will," he promised, and without another word, he slipped out the door…where chaos was ensuing between more people than when he had left the corridor.

Dr. Clarkson and Sir Philip were arguing heavily, although they both somehow managed to keep their voices at calm levels. Lord and Lady Grantham were also arguing, each standing by the doctor of their liking, like trainers to two boxers. Edith, Mary, and Matthew were also there, and Anna, who stood silently in a corner, watching the whole display with worry. Even the Dowager Countess was climbing the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing and frowning at the argument taking place.

"She needs to go to the hospital! Right now, without a moment to lose!" Dr. Clarkson insisted.

"And be exposed to all those germs?" Sir Philip scoffed. "She's far safer here!"

"Natural childbirth is out of the question; she needs a caesarean section!"

Tom's ears perked up at this; while he wasn't knowledgeable like Sybil when it came to medical terms, he knew that one. When he was ten, his father's sister had a caesarean section; the lives of both mother and child were lost. Of course, that had been twenty-years ago; surely things were better now?

"Are you willing to gamble her life, Dr. Clarkson?" Sir Philip taunted. "Because that's what you're suggesting. A caesarean could kill either or both of them!"

Tom felt so numb. Like someone had doused him with cold water and left him outside to freeze.

"I think we should listen to Sir Philip—" Lord Grantham argued.

"Sir Philip doesn't know her the way Dr. Clarkson does!" Cora argued back.

"None of this matters, because it's not anyone's decision but Tom's!"

Everyone paused and looked at Mary. Even Tom was amazed; while he and his sister-in-law had "buried the hatchet" for the most part, he still wasn't used to her speaking up for him.

"Tom did not hire Sir Philip," Lord Grantham began. Tom lifted a brow at this. Was he invisible? Did they not see him leave the room? No…they were all so passionate in their arguments, that no one had noticed him standing there.

"You're being ridiculous; obviously we have to talk to Tom!" Cora argued.

His Lordship turned his attentions to Old Lady Grantham, who was now standing in the corridor with the rest of them. "Don't look at me, Cora is right," she declared. "The decision lies with the chauffeur."

Tom actually felt a smile lift on his numb face. God bless that woman.

More voices joined the fray, more people began to throw their opinions into the mix, and despite the noise they were creating, Tom could still hear the pained whimpers of the only voice that mattered in all the world to him.

"Can you swear if she has the operation, that you can save her?"

Everyone stopped talking and turned their heads to look at him. Even Sybil's labored breathing seemed to have quieted.

Dr. Clarkson looked helpless. "I…I cannot swear it, no…"

Sir Philip made a dismissive scoffing sound from behind Tom's shoulder.

"But if we do not operate and I am right about her condition, then she _will_ die!"

No.

"If, if, if, if, Lord Grantham, can you please take command—" any further words that Sir Philip may have said were lost…when Tom's fist met the older man's face.

"TOM!" his father-in-law gasped, as Sir Philip crumpled to the ground, blood spurting from his nose. Other voices also uttered words of shock as they looked down at the guest doctor. The Dowager Countess merely clucked her tongue.

Tom didn't wait to hear a lecture. He pushed the door to their room open and moved to Sybil's bedside. "Come, love…we're going on a trip."

Sybil looked up at him, confused. "Trip?" she whispered.

"Aye," he vowed, moving his arms around her, and carefully lifting her off the bed, the blanket still wrapped around her body.

"Here now, what do you think you're doing?" the nurse gasped.

"Feck off!" Tom cursed, and the nurse stumbled back, her face pale and her hand falling to her chest, as if trying to ease her heart. Without another glance, Tom carried his wife, blanket and all, out the door.

"TOM!" Lord Grantham cried, his eyes widening at the sight of his son-in-law, carrying his daughter, who was wincing with pain and clutching her belly, as well as clinging to her husband as best she could. "Put her down at once! She's about to have a baby!"

"AYE!" Tom shouted at the man. "_My_ wife is about to have _OUR_ baby! And she will do it as she best sees fit!"

He was daring any of them to argue this with him. Cora was the first to move, nodding her head, and telling everyone to move out of the way, so he could walk down the stairs without pushing past people.

"I'll get the car!" Edith declared, running ahead. She smiled at Tom as she passed, and he smiled back. Those driving lessons had indeed paid off.

"Dr. Clarkson, you travel with them; the rest of us will follow, shortly," Cora explained, taking control while her husband stood there, looking absolutely dumbstruck by this sudden change. No one seemed to be paying attention to Sir Philip, who was still clutching his bloody nose on the ground.

"Are we…going…to the hospital?" Sybil groaned in his arms.

"Yes, Mrs. Branson," Dr. Clarkson assured. "I believe you need to have a caesarean section—"

"If it's…Eclampsia…" she hissed through a shot of pain. "Then…you're right."

Despite the seriousness of the moment, Tom couldn't help but smile at her words. Even in the midst of labor, she was ever the professional nurse.

The car came screeching to a halt moments later, and Tom wasted no time. Dr. Clarkson opened the door for him, and he, still holding Sybil, climbed into the backseat, holding her tightly, never letting her go, not for a moment. Dr. Clarkson climbed next to Edith, and as soon as the door was shut, she turned the car down the drive, and began driving as quickly, but as carefully as she could, to get to the hospital.

"It's going to be alright, love," Tom murmured in Sybil's ear, although if truth be told, he wasn't sure who he was trying to convince more; her, or himself.

"I know…" she whispered, despite the pain on her face and in her body. "You're here; that's all I need."

"You made the right decision, Mr. Branson," Dr. Clarkson assured. "You both did."

Tom nodded his head, but knew he would truly believe all that _after_ the whole thing was done, and he and Sybil and their son or daughter were back in their own room, in their own bed, together—as it should be.

* * *

_**To Be Continued in Love's Continuing Journey  
Coming early 2013!**_


	2. A Question & Survey for Readers

**A Question/Survey For YOU!**

First off, huge, HUGE thank you's to everyone who has been so wonderful and kind and enthusiastic about this project. I confess, originally, I never planned on doing a "sequel" to Love's Journey. My original plan had always been to end that story with Sybil sending her mother the letter about being pregnant (which we saw Cora read in the Series 2 Christmas Special). Then Series 3 happened...and like so many fans, I was outraged by events that took place, especially that horrid episode which in my mind was some mad Englishman's horror AU story, not the _Downton Abbey_ we all know and love ;o) After the viewing of that episode, I realized that I couldn't let the story of Sybil and Tom end where I originally had planned; it needed to continue, and I wanted to do their romance justice. Because I felt there were SO MANY THINGS that we didn't get to see! Where were the scenes of the two of them in their Dublin home? Where were the scenes of Sybil, showing how well she has adjusted to her life over there and working as a nurse? Or scenes of Tom getting involved in Irish Independence? What about scenes with Sybil and her in-laws? And then there were all those moments that we did get to see them on screen, but…they just didn't feel as satisfying as I believed they could be. And of course, I felt absolutely *robbed*, when that moment all of us Sybil/Tom fans were so looking forward to was twisted and turned into something ugly and tragic.

But it dawned on me after making this decision to "rewrite" series 3, that there were other things, things not necessarily connected to the characters of Sybil and Tom, that disappointed me. Did Robert have to be that negative to Edith? Why wasn't Martha there for Edith's wedding, as she had been for Mary's? (I really felt the whole Martha story was glossed over, especially after all the promotion they did for her character). While we did see a great deal of Bates in prison, I was disappointed that it seemed that Anna was the only one trying to get him out (whatever happened to Robert and Matthew who were working so hard in the Christmas Special, but who seemed to have fallen by the wayside here?) There were lots of little things, all adding up that overall, I felt I was watching an entirely different program to the one I had been promised.

SO WITH THAT BEING SAID…

**I want to ask YOU what would YOU like to see in this series 3 rewrite?** *Obviously* the outcome of what took place in episode 5 will not happen here, and I will do my best to try and fill in some of the gaps that I feel we were denied of the characters' lives in Ireland, but are there specifics that you want to see? Key moments that we've all pondered, but weren't shown? Whether they were moments in Dublin, or moments back at Downton, what had you hoped to see more of for Tom and Sybil?

Downton Abbey is very much a character-driven show; and for those of you who read Love's Journey, you know that I try to incorporate other moments that are happening in the show with other characters, and approach them from Sybil or Tom's perspective. So what moments that didn't necessarily involve Sybil or Tom that we saw in Series 3 would you like to see from their perspective? The going's on downstairs? The infamous "love square/pentagon"? Bates in prison? Edith's love-life/career life? Mrs. Hughes' cancer scare? Ethel rebuilding her life? That sort of stuff (I'm sure there are more things you can think of; maybe things that you didn't even see but wished you had saw!)

And finally…because I am kicking a few other ideas around, I want to ask a few "survey questions" and hear back from readers on their thoughts, to help me shape the story…

1) Mary and Matthew's wedding—do you think there needs to be more conflict _before_ it happens? That it should take place later down the road, instead of as early as we saw in the show?

2) Your thoughts/opinions on Edith's love-life? (I know that I'm asking this before the show is over and before the Christmas Special, but what do you think about this question?)

3) If a Downton character had to die…who would you pick, and why?

4) If Tom and Sybil have to stay in England, at least until Ireland gains her independence, what would you like to see them do (jobs/activities/political involvement/etc.)

5) Besides Ireland becoming a free state, what other historical moments would you like to see mentioned in the 1920's? What future historical moments would you like to see our characters face? (I'm already planning on touching on WWII when the time comes, don't worry!) Also, any historical figures you would like them or other Downton characters to meet?

6) What are some political topics that you wished to see Tom or Sybil (or with their influence, other characters) get involved in/protested/arrested for/etc.?

7) And finally…**the BIG ONE:** should Tom and Sybil's first child be a boy or a girl? If you have a preference, please give your reason! I can't make up my mind whether to keep that bit of canon (first child is a girl) or change it to a boy, just to cause drama/worry about the future entail :oP _AND_ how many children do you envision Sybil and Tom having?

Of course you don't have to answer any of these questions; you could just state your opinion on something you'd like to see more or less of, but I really am curious to know what readers are looking for/hoping to see/wished they had seen in Series 3. This is our opportunity to TAKE BACK Sybil and Tom's story, so unlike a certain Oscar/Emmy winner, I really want to hear what fans think ;o)

Even though the show isn't finished yet, please feel free to keep coming back and leaving a comment or PM me with your ideas. I'll still be waiting post-Christmas before I get fully started, but I am scribbling ideas down in a notebook, and I can't deny, I'm getting excited to see where this whole thing goes! So please, brainstorm your ideas and share your opinions! THANKS FOR READING!

**_—The Yankee Countess_**


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